


Spin Me a Tale

by ifishouldvanish



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-03-27 20:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13888302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifishouldvanish/pseuds/ifishouldvanish
Summary: Every two weeks, Belle tunes into her favorite book review podcast, Spin Me a Tale. Little does she know, that the man behind it is none other than the terribly shy library guest she's been harboring a crush on: Mr Gold.Prompted by @wayamy27narf on Tumblr





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wayamy27narf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayamy27narf/gifts).



Freshly towelled off from a shower, Belle spritzed herself with some perfume and nestled under the covers in her bed. She had a date tonight, and it was with  _ The Weaver. _ Popping her headphones in, she tugged the covers up to her chin and pressed play on her phone.

“Welcome to this week's edition of _Spin_ _Me A Tale._ I'm your host, The Weaver, and this week, we'll be taking a look at a tale of compassion, forgiveness...”

Belle smiled and settled against her pillows, closing her eyes and letting his warm voice fill her ears. It was deep and smooth as velvet, and that he had a divine Glaswegian accent was just an added bonus. She'd happily listen to him read the phone book, but better yet, she got to listen to his amusing and insightful thoughts on contemporary literature– opinions she often found herself agreeing with.

She liked to imagine he looked as sexy as he sounded, or how his voice might sound saying her name– despite Ruby's insistence that people get into radio for a reason and that reason was probably a face only a mother could love.

Appearances aside, Belle couldn't help wishing she could meet him. It was one thing to agree with somebody over taste in music, or movies, or art, but to agree with someone over  _ books? _ As far as she was concerned, that was the sort of thing that qualified them as soulmate material.

The next half hour flew by, and soon Belle had her next reading assignment. She opened her phone's browser and confirmed the title was available at the library so she could check it out after her shift tomorrow.

And then her mind wandered to a certain library patron.

_ Mr Gold. _

He'd checked the same book out a few weeks ago, and it wasn't the first time she'd recognized a title from her favorite podcast as something he'd read. At this point, she was willing to bet that he too was an avid listener of  _ Spin Me A Tale. _

She itched to talk to him about it, motivated if not by her passion for books, than by her passion for his  _ face. _ Mr Gold was terribly shy, having never spoken a single word to her beyond  _ Oh, Um, _ or  _ Mhm– _ but Lord above, did he have a good face. He was older, late thirties to mid forties, and his features were pointed and stern. But his eyes? They were so gentle, and the polite smiles he gave her so timid and sweet.

Belle sighed and smiled to herself. Tomorrow was the second Tuesday of the month, and he'd no doubt be coming in to check out another book.

  
  


*****

  
  


“Look who brought lunch!” Ruby sang in a whisper, setting a to-go bag from Granny's on the circulation desk. She glanced over her shoulder at the front door, then leaned over the counter with a grin on her face. “And don't look now, but short, dark, and too shy to function is coming in.” she winked.

“Oh!” Belle glanced down at her outfit and straightened her blouse, then peered at her reflection in the computer monitor to check her lipstick. “Do I look okay?”

“Yeah, you look hot!” Ruby assured quietly. “This could be the day– Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Belle stood up and tousled her hair as Mr Gold stepped through the door. He was looking sharp as ever in a black suit, navy shirt, and burgundy tie. She’d never thought too much of men in suits– always thinking them too stuffy, too arrogant, too proper– but since developing her little crush, she'd had a change of heart. Now they were… sophisticated, polished, and sexy. 

“Mr Gold!” she greeted him with a bright smile, only to be met by a chorus of shushing from several library guests. The man himself froze in the middle of the lobby and stared back at her with a startled look on his face.

“Um…  _ hi.” _ she finished weakly, and the hand she'd brought up to wave at him slowly drooped down to fist at her skirt instead.

The corners of his mouth twitched into a brief, tight-lipped smile, and he acknowledged her with a slight nod before passing on by.

Belle let out a sigh and turned to Ruby. “Should I not call him that?” she whispered. “He's never actually given me his name… I only know it because it's on his library card.”

“I don't get it.” Ruby said, popping a French fry into her mouth. “As far as I can tell, he has no personality whatsoever. You might as well have a crush on a brick wall.”

“No personality!?” Belle huffed. “He's  _ sweet! _ Besides– he  _ reads, _ Ruby. He has good taste!”

Ruby arched a brow.

Belle rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine.  _ And _ I think he's really cute. I mean, just  _ look _ at him…” she sighed, watching him hitch over to the poetry section with his cane. His shoulder-length brown hair always looked so soft, his matching sable eyes so warm, and the occasional whiff of cologne she got off of him while she checked his books out was nothing short of magical.

“Eh, he's okay, I guess.” Ruby shrugged, quietly unwrapping her burger.

“I wanna ask him out.” Belle said. “Do you think he's single? I mean, I’ve never seen a ring, but that doesn't mean he isn't seeing anyone.”

Ruby snorted. “Seriously?”

Belle pouted her lips. “What?”

“I just can't picture someone like him…  _ being _ with anybody.”

“Oh, he's just  _ shy!” _ Belle argued. “I'm sure he talks plenty around people he's comfortable with!”

“Maybe.” Ruby shrugged. “All I'm saying is–  _ good luck cracking that walnut.” _ she said, taking a bite of her lunch.

Belle folded her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. So what if Mr Gold was a mystery? She  _ loved _ a good mystery!

“I’m gonna talk to him.” she declared, setting her hands on her hips. “Today's the day.”

Ruby shook her head and swallowed her food. “Alright. Let's see it." she said, nodding towards the shelves. "Go get your man.” 

Taking a deep breath, Belle straightened her shoulders and marched off to the poetry section, finding him studying the spines of the books. He slid one out, a Robert Burns collection, and she felt her heart tug towards him.  _ He was a romantic. _

Belle stepped closer to him and swallowed hard. “Can I help you find anything?” she asked.

He turned his attention away from the shelf to look at her and stumbled back. “O-oh–” he stammered. His eyes darted across her face, but never seemed to settle anywhere.

“I'm sorry,” she chuckled. “I-I didn't mean to startle you.”

“Ah…” His mouth hung open and he tightened his grip on his cane, rubbing his thumb into the handle.

“Just looking, huh?” she asked.

He huffed a nervous little laugh through his nose, smiled and nodded, then turned back to the book in his hands.

_ God, _ she was crashing and burning, wasn't she?

“Um, Burns is one of my favorites.” she said, gesturing at the book.

He looked back up at her and smiled, letting out another soft chuckle.

“Well… my name's Belle.” she said. “Though um, you probably already knew that? Anyway, um, let me know if need help with anything?”

_ “Mhm.” _ he said, giving her another nod, another smile, and nothing more.

Belle lingered, waiting for something else to come to mind. A question she could ask or an observation she could make that would get a proper response out of him. A word. Just one. A yes or a no. But it never came, and now she was just standing there and staring at him like some kind of creep.

_ So much for getting her man, _ Belle thought with a sigh. She spun on her heels and rushed back to her desk before she could embarrass herself any further.

“So… How'd it go?” Ruby asked, wiggling her brows.

Belle sighed and plopped into her chair, snatching a French fry out of the bag. “Next time, Ruby. I can feel it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle devises a new plan to get through to Mr Gold.

Belle let out a heavy sigh, nudging what remained of her pancakes around in the lake of syrup on her plate. 

“Maybe he's like, mute or something.” Ruby shrugged. “You should try signing to him. See if he signs back.”

Belle's eyes swept up from her plate to where Ruby was standing on the other side of the counter. “Last time I tried to sign, I asked an eighty-six year old woman if she needed a  _ penis  _ instead of a pen!” she whined.

Ruby burst into laughter, but cut herself off when she noticed the unamused look on her friend’s face. “Sorry! I'm sorry! But now you know I gotta ask–”

_ “Yes!” _ Belle cried, dropping her fork and throwing her hands over her face. “She said yes!”

“Oh my God,” Ruby threw her head back and laughed again. “Okay, okay,” she settled down and shook her head. “So you just need to practice some more! You work at a library– check out a few books!”

“I don't think he's mute.” Belle said. “When the school does early release and he comes in with the little boy, he talks to _him!”_ she explained, throwing her hands up in the air. “I've seen it!”

“Huh.” Ruby shrugged, taking her plate away. “Well, you've got me there.”

Belle gasped and sat upright, slapping her palms on the bartop. “The boy! That's it, Ruby–” she pointed, “That's how I get through to him! Through his son!”

Ruby arched a brow. “Sounds a little creepy, Belle. Not gonna lie. Now I'm just picturing you kidnapping the kid and leaving him a ransom note.” she snickered and took on a menacing voice,  _ “if you ever wanna see your son again, you'll go on a date with me...” _

Belle rolled her eyes. “Not like  _ that!” _ she huffed. “We have a bunch of kids’ after school programs coming up! I can  _ personally _ hand him a flyer for one, and maybe, if I'm lucky, his son will be interested, and they'll come, and…”

“He can continue to stutter and hide from you?” Ruby finished for her.

Belle narrowed her eyes. “No. See– the energy at the library is  _ way _ different in the evening. It's… less busy, less noisy, less bright. It's…” she leaned over the counter and sighed,  _ “romantic.” _

“Hm…” Ruby tilted her head and wrinkled her nose. “Not the word I'd use to describe a bunch of five to ten year-olds fighting over crayons or who gets to sit in the bean bag chair during story time… but you do you.” she said, sliding Belle's check across the counter.

“Yeah well– _ some of us _ are trying to be optimistic here, Ruby.” she grumbled and began digging her wallet out of her purse.

“He’s coming in today?”

“Mhm.” Belle looked up at her and bit back a smile. “...Every other Tuesday.”

  
  


*****

  
  


Belle's lunch break had technically ended twenty minutes ago, but other having a few new books to catalog into the system, it was a slow day. She had a stack of flyers for the next family event ready and waiting to be handed out, and as long as she got the new books processed in by four o'clock, her extended lunch would be a secret a safely kept between her and The Weaver.

_ “...his moral ambiguity is what I feel makes him such a compelling character– one whose journey toward redemption is paralleled at several points in the novel by one of the other characters–” _

The doorbell chimed and Belle looked up from the book she'd been following along with. She scoot forward in her seat, peering around the circulation desk, and there he was.

_ Her man. _

Mr Gold.

Sure, he might not know he was her man yet, but one of these days… one of these days they'd have an actual conversation, and she'd invite him out for coffee, and they'd talk about books until sundown, and he'd ask to see her again, and then they could fall in love for real.

He turned around to use the drop-off bin and Belle helped herself to a long, appreciative look at his rear, her lips pressed together as she admired the view.

She wouldn't dare admit it to Ruby– after all, she had a reputation for looking beyond outward appearances to uphold– but she appreciated the man's derrière almost as much as she did his timid smiles, gentle demeanor, and taste in literature.

Oh, it was a  _ cute _ butt. Round, pert, tight little thing. Her fingers practically twitched with the urge to reach out and touch it.

Well,  _ squeeze, _ if she was perfectly honest with herself. There was no way a simple touch would suffice. No, no– she longed to give it a nice, sweet caress. A tight squeeze. A bite.

Okay, maybe not a  _ bite. _

Oh, who was she kidding? She’d totally take a bite out of that thing.

It was unfair, really. It was just a butt. What business did it have being so– 

Something touched Belle's shoulder and she jumped, tearing her earbuds out. She spun around in her seat and found Mrs Potts with her hands on her hips and a haughty look on her face.

“Head in the  _ clouds  _ again, I see…” she tutted.

“Uh– _ N-no.” _ Belle blurted, belatedly rushing to pause the podcast on her phone. She turned straight ahead and corrected her posture, doing her best impression of somebody who definitely hadn’t just been caught ogling a guest.

The two of them did their best to act casual as Mr Gold hitched across the lobby– both offering polite, innocent smiles as he passed the circulation desk. Belle gave a small wave, and for one beautiful second, their eyes met and he smiled back. He disappeared among the shelves and she let out a sigh.

Mrs Potts leaned over Belle’s shoulder and cleared her throat. “I understand we all have our own little vices to help us get through the day with our sanity in tact, Miss French– just so long as we get our work done on time. Is that clear?”

Belle swallowed hard. “Yes, Mrs Potts.” she said, reaching out and patting a hand on the cart full of books still waiting to be processed. “You know, I was just um, finishing up my lunch break.”

With a skeptical little hum, the woman walked off and Belle eased her shoulders.  
  
  


*****  
  
  


An hour later, she was distracted again.

It wasn't her fault that Mr Gold had seated himself at one of the reading tables across the lobby where she could see him. Whatever he was reading, it must have been good because he was hunched over the table with keen interest. A cascade of soft, brown hair was catching the light overhead just so. He had his lips pressed together, tongue periodically poking out to wet them. And then there were his  _ hands. _

He was so gentle, the way he handled his books. The delicate way he flipped each page; It was like he was caressing a lover, Belle thought.

She'd like to be caressed.

He ought to spread her pages and read  _ her. _

Mr Gold's focus lifted away from his book then. He looked around the library, blinking as he returned to reality– and if Belle hadn't been enjoying the view of his Adam's apple so much, she'd have had the mind to look away sooner.

Their eyes met, only this time it was mortifying. His eyes widened and Belle darted her gaze up to the inspirational posters on the wall, pretending to read them. She counted to five and turned back to her computer screen, tucking her hair behind her ear.

After clicking and typing a few nothings into the database program for appearances, her eyes stealthily drifted back to Mr Gold. Checking him out from afar was all well and good, but she was on a mission today.

He'd closed his book and was skimming the back covers of the others he had piled beside him.

That was her cue.

Belle plucked one of the flyers off the stack on her desk and stood up, taking a second to smooth out her skirt before heading over.

“Uh…” she cleared her throat. “Mr Gold?”

He looked up at her from his book, brows raised expectantly.

“Um… I just wanted to give you this.” she said, holding out the flyer.

He blinked and shifted in his seat, his eyes snapping down to read the headline. Knitting his brows together, he tilted his head and glanced back up at her. His lips parted, and a hand came up to rub at the collar of his shirt.

“I-I know the flyer says  _ Mommy and Me, _ but it's actually a family thing that's open to all parents and guardians regardless of gender?” she explained, cringing at the way her voice cracked on the last few words. “I um... I tried to convince the director to let us call it something more inclusive, but they said it didn't have the same ring to it?”

He wrinkled his nose and a smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth. He squashed it though– pressing his lips together and shaking his head. 

_ God, _ he probably thought she was so  _ stupid. _ Why was everything she was saying coming out as a question?

Belle was about to initiate her exit strategy, but then he touched his fingers to his lips. It seemed he was thinking. That he was going to do something. Say something?

He reached out to accept the flyer from her, but paused, wet his lips, and nodded first.

“It’s next Thursday at six,” Belle continued, feeling her heart begin to race. This was it. This was her chance. “And well… I’ll be there. Because um– well, I  _ love _ kids, and uh, it’d be really great to see you and Bae there?”

His smile widened at the mention of the boy's name, and he skimmed over the flyer a second time.

“The kids always have a lot of fun and it's um…” Belle trailed off, her momentum slipping already, and started wringing her hands over her belly. “Well, we do all sorts of things, but basically it's all about helping parents and children communicate and understand each other better by creating transformative works together based off of classic folk tales? The um, the idea is that it can often be easier for children to express themselves through stories than plain conversation?”

The corners of his mouth pinched downwards and he hiked his brows. “Hm.”

Belle smiled and relaxed her shoulders, breathing a sigh of relief.

A  _ hm! _

A  _ hm _ was good!

She could work with a  _ hm! _

“It's uh… a great way to meet other parents, too.” she added.

He uttered another sound– a resigned little groan– and looked back down at his book, rubbing his thumb along the corners of the pages.

_ Damn it. _

Belle squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her cheeks grow hot. She only meant to convey her own desire to get to know him, but instead she probably made it sound like some kind of bizarre mixer for single parents. He probably thought she pitied him now.  _ Oh, look at the poor, lonely man reading by himself– if only he were to get out more, he might meet somebody! _

Sure, she hoped he had friends and wasn’t lonely– but her intentions at the moment weren’t quite so noble. No, no. The only person she was interested in setting him up with was herself.

But regardless, if this was going to go anywhere, she needed to keep talking to him. 

“I mean–” she shook her head, “not that you like, would have to talk to anybody. At all. I didn't mean meet people as in  _ meet people.  _ You don't have to meet anyone if you don't want to?”

Mr Gold looked back up at her again, leaning closer and tilting his head.

Yes, yes. Good save.

“Because I take it you're… I mean I  _ think _ you're a…”

No, no. Backpedal. Reroute.

Belle squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “I have a lot of respect for single parents and the idea that you– that  _ they _ need to find and settle down with another person to give their child a more traditional family is just…”

She tucked her hair behind her ears and threw a quick glance over her shoulder to dodge his gaze. Her hands were trembling and she could feel her armpits starting to sweat and itch. Hell,  _ everything _ was starting to sweat. But he was actually  _ looking _ at her this time instead of turning away and hiding behind his hair– and quite frankly, she wasn't prepared for it. His eyes were so warm and brown and soulful and sexy and good grief, she needed to get away before she did something stupid. Like confess that she was practically in love with him. Or tell him how much she liked his butt and wanted to  _ bite it, _ apparently.

“I mean, it's really offensive, isn't it?” she chuckled awkwardly, already taking half a step back. “...heh.”

He scoffed and placed the flyer on the table, nodding in agreement. The corner of his mouth curled into one of those crooked smirks of his, and Belle’s heart pounded in her throat.

“Anyway, uh, no pressure or anything– bye!” she finished quickly, giving a little wave and spinning on her heels. She made a beeline for the front desk and sat back down with a huff, immediately grabbing her hand sanitizer so she could clean the yucky, clammy, sweaty feeling from her palms.

_ Biting butts. _

Was that even a thing?

Well, of course it was. Everything was a thing. But  _ why? _

Oh, God.

She was like a voracious lioness, wasn't she? Lying in wait, ready to pounce on and sink her fangs into the succulent rump of a gazelle. Or a cute little zebra. Or a painfully shy silver fox with good taste in books.

“Still finishing our lunch break, are we?” Mrs Potts asked, coming over and making a point of examining one of the books still waiting to be processed in. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Get me transferred to another library branch and put me out of my misery.” Belle groaned, slouching in her seat.

Mrs Potts gave her an appraising look. “You know…” she leaned in and beckoned Belle closer, her eyes brimming with mischief.

Skeptical, Belle rolled her eyes, but she could humor the woman.

“Back in my day,” she whispered, “if a girl wanted to get a boy's attention, she might  _ accidentally _ drop something so he could pick it up for her.”

Belle pulled back and narrowed her eyes, managing a polite smile. “With all due respect, Mrs Potts– this isn’t the _seventh_ _grade.”_

“Well.” She huffed in offense and brushed some imaginary dirt off of her dress. “It was only a suggestion. But by all means– keep soliciting him like a used car salesman. Seems to be working out well for you.” she muttered, bustling back to her office.

At a loss for words, Belle watched the woman waddle off with her mouth hanging open. 

‘Accidentally’ drop something?

Ridiculous.

She was 21st century woman! She didn’t need to partake in foolish games like that! Feigning clumsiness to make herself seem less intimidating to a man? Pandering to some innate male desire to feel useful!?

Absolutely insulting, is what it was! Degrading!

She shook her head and popped her earbuds back in, putting her podcast back on. The Weaver’s velvety voice filled her ears again, and as she finally began cataloging the new acquisitions, Belle couldn't help wondering if his butt was half as nice as Mr Gold's.

Probably not.

A butt like that was a rare and beautiful thing.

But oh, goodness. A man with The Weaver's sexy accent, and Mr Gold's perfect little tush? A girl could dream.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever. Here's a bit of Gold's POV. :)

Joseph tore his eyes away from the clock when he heard the gentle creaking of the wood floors, finding his son had already managed to sneak out of his chair and was halfway across the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” he asked, bringing Bae’s escape to a grinding halt.

“To my room...” he mumbled guiltily.

Joseph leaned across the table and nudged his son’s plate. “Not until you finish your supper.”

“But I don’t like brussel sprouts.” he pouted. “They’re icky.”

Joseph scoffed. “Is that what you think of your father’s cooking?” he teased.

Bae frowned and looked down at the floor.

“Come on…” he pressed. “At least eat one, and then you can go.”

His son looked back up at him hesitantly.

“Or–” Joseph said, “finish all four of them, and we’ll go out for ice cream tomorrow.”

A smile crept across Bae's face, and he climbed back into his seat. “...Deal.”

Joseph watched as his son proceeded to make the leafy greens on his plate disappear. No sooner had he finished them than he leapt out of his seat and scurried up the stairs, leaving Joseph alone at the table.

He’d hardly touched his dinner himself, but fortunately Bae hadn’t the mind to call him out on it.

He laid back in his seat and sighed, his eyes wandering back to the clock. Belle’s event at the library would be starting in a few minutes, and he finally accepted the fact that he wasn’t going.

He wanted to go. But he also didn't.

All week, he’d been telling himself to go– after all, Belle had taken the care to invite him personally. But just when he thought he’d finally convinced himself to, his mouth would go dry, his insides would twist, and his mind would conjure a multitude of excuses not to.

They warmed him, the excuses. Eased the tense feeling that he hadn’t realized had seeped into his shoulders. Made the pressure in his chest lift away.

Staying at home was… safe. Comfortable. Familiar.

The whole thing had been robbing him of his appetite all week. At first, his nerves about what to do or what to say or what to wear had been to blame. But as the date drew closer, that familiar, gnawing guilt had crept in instead, punishing him for the decision he’d inevitably wind up making.

 _God,_ he was such a coward.

Sure, he was a shy man. But when it came to Belle French? He was _pathetic._

Every time he came into the library, she had a cheerful greeting for him– complete with one of those smiles that made his heart skip a beat and left his tongue tied into a knot that couldn't be undone.

She was just too much for him. Too kind, too smart, too funny, too beautiful, too good. And yet she wouldn't leave him be.

Not that he would want her to.

All his life he'd always felt so invisible. As thought he could disappear from this world forever, and no one super from his son would ever notice he was gone.

But Belle? Belle _saw_ him.

One day, he'd come into the library, and when she gave him an enthusiastic _'Hi, Mr Gold!’_ he'd finally work up the nerve to respond with a, _'Good afternoon, Miss French!’_

Every other Tuesday, while he walked down Main Street and up to the front doors of the library, he'd rehearse those four words in his head.

_Good afternoon, Miss French!_

_Good afternoon, Miss French!_

_Good afternoon, Miss French!_

But every time without fail, the words would abandon him as soon as he laid eyes on her. At this point, it'd probably be unsettling if he were to say anything to her. Heads would turn. People would gasp.

 _“The guy can talk after all!”_ they'd say!

Joseph rolled his eyes at the thought. Years spent shrinking away so as not to make an arse of himself, only for people to embarrass and draw attention to him to second he worked up the courage to step out of his shell.

He knew he was only digging himself deeper every day. But at least this ditch of his was familiar. The alternative was risky. The alternative was action. The alternative was taking a step into the unknown.

Though he supposed there were also certain unknowns to be encountered as his ditch grew deeper. For example, how was he supposed to show his face at the Library again next Tuesday?

Joseph closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

Belle would probably never smile at him again, and he'd only have himself to blame.

She'd be fed up with him by now, just like Milah.

He'd lucked out with her, hadn't he? With her, he’d conveniently sidestepped the awkward first impression, the first date. All of it.

She was the brash neighbor girl who'd caught wind of the little boy who lived up the street. She would come pounding on the door of his father's house looking for someone to play with every weekend, and he would tag along– motivated more by a desire to be away from his father for a few hours than he was by any desire to make friends. But really, more than anything in the world, he just wanted to be left alone with his imagination.

He'd be Milah's audience as she rode her bicycle as _fast_ as she could, climbed the trees as _high_ as she could, skipped stones over the pond as _far_ as she could. They’d found themselves in many of the same classes at school too, and there was a sort of comfort in seeing her familiar face among the others, which were ever-changing.

Naturally, they walked the same route to school every morning, and again every afternoon. It was in the eighth grade that she'd told him they were going to the school dance together– and so he went, and they’d danced, and she’d kissed him.

It was a primordial thing, the two of them had. It wasn’t a spectacular love. It wasn’t the sort of love that consumed him, nor had it ever been. But he and Milah had always just _been,_ and he'd counted on them to always just _be._

And now? He was alone.

Always, always, alone.

Joseph looked down at the untouched plate in front of him and sighed. Pushing himself up from his seat, he carried it over the the sink and began to quickly tidy the kitchen. It was a half-arsed effort, but enough to give him one less thing to feel guilty about.

With that out of the way, he retired to his chair in the living room. Plucking his latest book off the accent table, he settled in for the night– and as he read his way through the last few chapters he'd had left, it dawned on him that the story's protagonist reminded him of someone.

Reminded him of Belle.

  
  


*****

  
  


Belle counted out the crayons in the basket on the last table, making certain that the entire visible light spectrum was represented among them. Blue crayons seemed to go far more quickly than the others, and as such had become somewhat of a hot commodity. The library director wasn’t too concerned about the matter, but Belle had taken it upon herself to pick up a few extra boxes during her break. Anything to make sure each table had no fewer than two blue crayons.

After all, she’d invited Mr Gold and Bae to come tonight, and heaven forbid she failed to make a good impression– that Belle French was capable and organized, and that the guests in her classes would want for nothing.

Not even blue crayons.

The doorbell jingled, and Belle whipped her head around to see who it was. Much to her disappointment, it was only the Nolans. She put on a smile nonetheless and greeted them, being sure to hand little Emma a lollipop before ushering them to one of the tables in the front.

Because if Mr Gold came, she imagined he and Bae would prefer a seat in the back to themselves.

One by one, the rest of Belle’s guests arrived. The Boyds with little Alexandra. Zelena Mills with her Robin. Killian with his Alice. The tables all slowly filled up, and Belle caught herself chewing her nails.

She checked the clock over the circulation desk.

The event was starting in a few minutes, and Mr Gold was nowhere to be found.

 _Maybe he was just running late,_ she told herself. _He could be on his way right now._

But then five more minutes passed by. Ten minutes. And at fifteen, she was out of excuses to put off the evening's activities for a moment longer. With a resigned sigh, she squared her shoulders and took her position up front.

An hour and a half later Belle was back home, dragging her tired feet into the bedroom. She kicked off her shoes and tossed her purse on the floor, scowling at her reflection in the mirror. She’d put extra care into choosing her outfit this morning, but had all been for naught. Not to mention, one of the parents had the nerve to complain about having to share crayons!

Pulling her blouse up over her shoulders, Belle flung it on the ground, followed by her skirt and her bra– replacing them all with an oversized t-shirt before plopping into her bed.

It was foolish of her, wasn't it? To be nurturing a ridiculous schoolgirl crush on a man who's never even spoken a word to her before?

She sighed and fussed with her pillow, struggling to get comfortable.

Perhaps Ruby was right.

Perhaps she was wasting her time.

Perhaps she ought to just cut her losses and leave the man alone.

Perhaps there was another guy out there with good taste in books, a perfect butt, and cheekbones that could cut diamonds.

Belle rolled her eyes.

_It wasn't fair!_

Why did he have to be so _cute!?_

The way he smiled and blushed whenever their eyes met? With those dimples that made her want to pinch his cheeks?

She let out a huff and grabbed her phone, popping her earbuds in. She needed to unwind from this crushing disappointment of a day, and she could think of no better way to do so than by listening to the sweet, sweet musings of a certain Scottish bibliophile.

Belle opened the app, and like fate, like some form of destiny, some kind of sign– an alert appeared, notifying her that a new episode of _Spin Me a Tale_ had just been posted and was ripe for her listening pleasure.

A new episode. On a Thursday night.

New episodes didn’t get posted until Friday.

It seemed God had chosen to smile down on her today, after all.

She opened the drawer of her nightstand, fished out the book The Weaver had assigned last week, and hit play.

He made his usual introduction, provided the routine summary of the novel’s themes… but several minutes later came Belle’s favorite part: the character analyses. He began, of course, with the story's main protagonist– a brash young woman named Lacey.

 _“Some people might say that her unwavering faith in the good of people makes her naive,”_ he explained, _“but I think it's her greatest strength. When she finds something with fighting for, she never gives up.”_

Belle felt her cheeks grow hot. While she'd been reading, she couldn't help identifying strongly with Lacey. She was brave, stood up for what she believed in, always saw the best in people, and never apologized for the way she felt. Tonight however, Belle wasn't feeling very much like Lacey at all.

 _“They say that in the end, only we can help ourselves, but I don't think that's true.”_ the Weaver continued. _“Knowing that there's somebody out there who cares, having that support, does more than I can say. A second chance, or a third, or fourth, or fifth. It tells a person that you see them, that you're rooting for them, and that you know they can do it, even if they don't believe it themselves. So, to any Laceys listening… I hope you'll continue to fight for the people in your life. To give them your strength, your bravery, and your encouragement, because it means more to them than you may realize.”_

Belle bit her cheek.

Maybe the Weaver was right.

Maybe, for whatever reason, Mr Gold just couldn't make it.

Maybe Mr Gold needed someone to give him another chance. Or two. Or ten. Or fifty-seven. Or a hundred and four.

Yes, Belle knew one thing– she wouldn't give up on him just yet.


End file.
